Little Sister
by cheebs
Summary: Kennedy reflects on her initial feelings for her sister Slayers, and how they've changed. Written before Kennedy's introduction. Massive spoilers for season 7. WARNING: Character deaths.


  
MASSIVE spoilers for s7. Some aren't confirmed, which is a Good Thing, because one has me screaming at the ceiling. Many thanks to Spoiler Slayer for the inspiration. Lyrics from Siouxsie and the Banshees' song of the same name.  
  
  
Little Sister  
  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfiction  
by cheebs!   
  
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_Little sister, I'll leave you   
Let's just say it's a mercy kill   
Little sister, you left me   
Howling at the moon   
  
If you touch my heart   
You might be surprised   
You'd be paralysed_  
  
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I can't hate Buffy. Not anymore. Not after everything that happened, that I saw with my own two eyes.   
  
I can't blame her, either.   
  
After all, who wants to kill the one person who understands you better than anyone else, has seen you at both best and worst, and loves you anyway?   
  
I hated Buffy before I ever laid eyes on her. My Watcher told me all she had learned from Rupert Giles' diaries: the unorthodox methods with which she'd been trained; the horrific joking while slaying; the civilians whom she'd befriended and whose help she'd invited. She also spoke of how this woman had died and been revived by said friends, creating an anomaly that should never have been - a second active Slayer. Kendra.   
  
Kendra was a properly-trained Slayer, smart and respectful - everything a Slayer should be and Buffy seemed not to be. It didn't help her in the end. She died under a vampiress' thrall, her throat unceremoniously slashed from side to side.   
  
Kendra died. Faith was called. I would have been next, had Buffy succeeded on that rooftop; hence the hating.   
  
There isn't much that hasn't already been said about Faith. It's generally agreed that her calling was a mistake. The very things that made her suitable - a strong survival instinct, ability to adapt and willingness to fight among others - were deeply rooted in an abusive childhood that left her mentally unstable.   
  
The Faith I knew about was psychotic and violent. She had tried to kill those who wanted to help her on more than one occasion. She had believed herself to not only be above the law, but to _be_ the law. She was dangerous and needed to be put down as quickly as possible. This was the woman I expected when first I laid eyes upon her, and it was she whom I was prepared to deal with.   
  
You'd think after meeting Buffy, I'd know that the Council's versions of events were greatly biased.   
  
Faith was nothing like I had expected. I'd been told she turned herself in to escape punishment, yet this woman was sincerely repentant, never once asking or expecting forgiveness for her transgressions. She accepted every barb thrown her way with silence, her eyes conveying her remorse and acknowledgment of her guilt.   
  
When she finally turned her eyes towards us, they were not the cold, inhuman black they had seemed in the one picture of her I'd seen. Rather they were a warm chocolate a few shades darker than her hair. She knew instantly who we were. After a "hey, little sisters" passed her lips in a faint voice, she backed out the door...   
  
...right into Angelus. I knew the Scourge of Europe from the Diaries and Chronicles. Yet another reason to hate Buffy - she had not only allowed this vampire to live, she'd allowed him to defile her body! And had tried to kill another Slayer to save him - though she was rogue, her blood was still sacred! It was unheard of! Buffy Summers was as offensive to the Council as Faith was, just in a different way.   
  
Again, I only knew part of the truth.   
  
Angelus permitted Faith to drag him out of earshot - something which the beast described in the Chronicles never would have allowed. I could see them clearly from my seat. His manner conjured up one of the few memories I have of my father, comforting me as he handed me over to an Englishwoman whose name I've long forgotten. A vampire befriending, much less comforting, a Slayer had been a foreign concept to me until I arrived in Sunnydale and met Spike.   
  
I couldn't deny what I saw, and it confused the heck out of me. Hadn't Faith tried to kill him more than once? Yet he'd found it within himself to befriend her. How could I, who had never met her, not do the same? How could I let myself be shown up by a murderous demon?   
  
Quite simply, I couldn't. But I couldn't bring myself to stop hating both Slayers, either. I just kept it quiet.   
  
Besides, Faith set off my gaydar the minute she walked in. I knew about her lack of morals and figured she'd be all over Willow the minute my back was turned.   
  
Well, at least I was partially right.  
  
I don't remember how Faith and I started talking, or why. She confronted me about my attitude towards Buffy. I told her I hated the blonde because she hadn't killed Faith when she'd had the chance. What she told me stuck in my head: "Slayer doesn't equal killer. Learn from my mistake, and stop hating Buffy for not being more than she is...'cause what she is is...just Buffy."   
  
I knew, then. I confessed my own love interest, and she laughed and put an arm around me. Her eyes, so haunted by all she'd seen, glistened with unshed tears as she told me I was lucky to have fallen for someone who could love me back. At the time I thought her tears were those of self-pity, for falling for a straight girl, and thought her weak. I now believe she knew what was to come.   
  
When our battle with The First was over, Buffy lay dead, her neck twisted at a horrible angle. Spike huddled over her, crying out his anger. Dawn clung to his side. Their friends clustered around them. The other "little sisters" who's survived stood at a respectful distance, heads bowed. All were crying, myself included.   
  
The dust settled, and I wasn't as worn out as I should've been after a prolonged fight. Then I realised I was getting stronger. I looked to the wounds on my hands and forearms; they were closed.   
  
My scream alerted them even as I rushed to Faith's side. I went to cover her chest wound with my hand, and brushed against the stake buried there. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glazed, as she grabbed my wrist and forced my hand away. As I called for help I tried again, my fingers slipping in her blood and failing to gain purchase. Her breathing grew ragged and thick as she choked on her own blood. Everything slowed, like watching a movie on half-speed.   
  
Then power surged through me like electricity, and she was gone.   
  
I don't recall what happened next. I get vague flashes of being pulled away, screaming, begging for her to be revived; watching from outside myself as her vacant, staring eyes were shut. Then the world sped up again as reality set in and I realised the enormity of what had just happened.   
  
The Chosen Two were dead. Long live the Chosen One...or at least let her die honorably.   
  
I regret now all the time I spent hating who Faith had been - time I could've spent getting to know the woman she was. We had so little time together, yet she taught me so much about myself. With Buffy it was the same, to a lesser extent. Why? Arrogance.   
  
I'm not ready for this. I always thought I was, but the past weeks showed me the truth - I have a long way to go. I doubt I'll be half the Slayer Buffy was, or as strong in my last moments as Faith was in hers.   
  
I'll try for you, sisters.   
  
~never an end~  
12/10/02  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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